


Time Heals All Wounds (And If it Doesn’t Then a Handjob Will)

by SimplyUndead



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crying, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father/Son Incest, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Smut, Spanking, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, actually really hot, and i've accepted it, but stepfather/stepson so its okay but not really, but still kinda hot, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyUndead/pseuds/SimplyUndead
Summary: When Peter's mother and Tony's wife dies, it leaves both of them completely wrecked and unable to function. They both cope in unhealthy ways until it all becomes too much and Peter realizes he needs his stepfather - in more ways than one.





	Time Heals All Wounds (And If it Doesn’t Then a Handjob Will)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: smut, swearing, angst, minor character death (just the mentioning of), unhealthy coping mechanisms
> 
> A/N: I wrote this last November, so about six months ago (it took me too long to count that back btw) and I honestly never thought I would post it. I wrote it with the intent of posting it and then never got around to it and then just decided that it should just live on my computer, never to see the light of day. But then I watched Endgame yesterday and it still has me fucked me up and fucked over and I am desperately craving some kind distraction. And those of you that have also watched it are probably craving a distraction as well. I hope you enjoy this! It is my first and only starker fanfiction, so show it some love.

Peter stumbled down the sidewalk, letter clutched and wrinkled in hand. The sun was beaming down, but the October air offered a brisk breeze now and again. He was thankful for his hoodie, even if it was damp. He was hyper aware of the strong smell of alcohol that radiated from his entire being and he didn’t think it would’ve been all too noticeable if Flash hadn’t dicked around, tripped, and poured a nearly full bottle of beer down his front.

As Peter focused his (slightly) drunken gaze on the suburban houses around him, he recalled the chain of events that led his life up to this moment. The moment being considered, of course, was the current one - walking home after getting suspended from school due to drinking on the grounds at noon on Monday.

He supposed it all stemmed from when he was a youthful two-years-old. His father, whom he barely remembered now, had just left his mother and him. His mom was devastated, that much he could remember. It took her years and years to recover. In that decade of emotional healing, it was just the two of them - Peter and his beautiful mother, Mary.

They were the best of friends, really. Peter was never embarrassed of her, even as he got older. He loved her more than anyone else in the world. They were inseparable. And even the name-calling he received at school wasn’t enough to lessen their bond.

Finally, as Peter reached the age of twelve, his mother decided to start dating. She found a man, dated him for a while, and fell in love. They married a couple of months before the boy’s thirteenth birthday. The man’s name was Tony Stark.

Tony was a nice guy, for all intents and purposes. Peter never bothered to get close to him, but the man was sweet enough, and better yet, he was head over heels for Mary. He treated her like a queen and that alone made Peter ecstatic. He had watched for years as his mother carried the burden of being alone and unhappy. She was always happy to have Peter, of course, but her previous husband had left her with a seemingly irreparable broken heart.

So, all in all, Peter enjoyed life with his new stepfather. He didn’t get as much alone time with his mom, but the smile on her face made up for it. And besides, he was happy to finally be out of that cramped apartment and into a nice two story home. Plus, Tony had a niece named Nina that Peter absolutely adored. The boy was three years her senior, but they got along swimmingly. He loved to play all kinds of games with her. And good for the both of them, Nina’s parents worked crazy hours, meaning she spent nearly every evening and weekends with the Stark family. It was like having the sister he had always wanted.

Life for Peter was like apple pie and ice cream - sweet and filling - for almost two years. It was the winter of his sophomore year that the metaphorical apple pie was burned to a crisp and the ice cream was left melted in a sticky puddle. His mother was driving home from work when a drunk driver had come out of nowhere and hit her head on. The driver had been in a huge semi-trailer truck, giving Peter’s mother no chance at all. It was said that she died on impact, but that didn’t lessen the blow for Peter. Or Tony, for that matter.

They were both devastated. And perhaps they should have looked to each other for comfort, but their lack of a relationship didn’t change after Mary died. If anything, they only drifted further apart. They both coped in unhealthy ways, Tony usually nursing a glass of whiskey and Peter resorting to lashing out at anyone and everyone.

They barely even saw each other for the first year after it happened. When they weren’t at school or work respectively, they were always on opposite sides of the house. If Tony was cooking dinner, Peter was in his room. If Peter was in the living room, Tony was in his study. They never ate meals together or had a conversation any longer than two minutes. The most interaction they had was when they awkwardly passed each other in the hallway, which consisted of a nod from Tony and Peter looking anywhere other than his stepfather’s direction. They didn’t hate each other. Not in the least. They just couldn’t figure out how to tell the other they were hurting. And after a few months passed, it just didn’t seem right to even try anymore.

Finally, on the one year anniversary of Mary’s death, they both broke down. Peter came home from school sobbing to find Tony in a state not much better than his own. Neither said a word, but Peter let Tony hold him and cry into shoulder, while the younger did the same.

Peter thought that things had changed after that night. He thought they had turned over a new leaf and Peter could stop feeling so alone. But the next day brought the realization that nothing was different. Tony was gone to work before Peter had even woken up and the man had walked straight to his room upon returning home that evening, leaving an afflicted Peter in his wake.

Perhaps Peter should have tried harder, but he had been hurting for a year and watching Tony walk right past him brought on a new wave of loneliness that he could barely handle. He stared at the ceiling for hours until he fell asleep that night. He couldn’t even find it within him to cry anymore.

The second year without his mother was somehow worse for Peter. He had continued to feel miserable with no end in sight and that alone brought on a somewhat nihilistic attitude. Nothing mattered to him anymore. Watching Tony heal over the following months only made him angrier. While his grades and his mental state were slipping, Tony seemed to be trying harder to be happy.

The man spent more time with Nina and put all of his effort into doing things with her. Peter observed from a distance as they cooked and watched films together. As Tony helped her with homework daily, never growing impatient or frustrated. They even seemed to have fun cleaning the kitchen when in each other’s company. It made Peter sick. He wanted so desperately for someone to spend time like that with him. And since he could no longer do those things with his mother, he craved Tony’s attention and affection.

Of course, Tony offered Peter a seat on the sofa when Nina had selected a movie. The boy even accepted at first, but after a few times of watching Tony and Nina make inside jokes that he wasn’t in on, he decided that it made him feel worse. He declined all of the invitations after that and soon, they just stopped offering altogether.

Peter could understand that Tony felt closer to Nina. Could even understand that he loved her more. Tony had watched Nina grow up from day one of her life. They had an unbreakable uncle/niece bond and Peter was fine with that. To an extent, anyway. He wasn’t jealous of Nina. He just missed having a family.

And it wasn’t like it was entirely their fault. Peter knew that. He knew he was hard to be around. Two years of being miserable really did a number on his attitude. He was hateful to everyone. And when he wasn’t being hateful, he couldn’t even manage to carry a normal conversation. He would be distant and awkward to talk to, like he couldn’t even make his own voice sound natural.

The only time he could actually speak properly was when he was yelling. And it didn’t matter who he was yelling at, either. His teachers, his “friends,” his stepfather. Of course he and Tony only ever talked when Peter came home with pink slips that required a parent signature. But again, that wasn’t talking, that was yelling. It was Tony fussing at him and Peter yelling back snarky remarks. It would go on until they were both tired and fed up and Peter would slam his door shut and punch his pillow until he fell asleep.

Peter couldn’t escape his misery. Not at home when he watched as Tony and Nina happily spent time together and not at school when he caused trouble by drinking or smoking or just being an ass to everyone. Then he would bring home citations and the cycle would start all over.

Really, all he wanted was for Tony to break the viscous loop one time and just ask  _What’s wrong? Why are you doing this, Pete?_ But he never did. He never asked Peter’s side, he just fussed and then Peter yelled until they both got tired and went to sleep angry. And honestly, Peter didn’t even blame him. He knew he was hard to handle and he knew that Tony had never had to raise a child. He also knew that Tony didn’t ask to get stuck with Peter after Mary died, the boy just had no one else to go to.

He knew all of this, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to change his ways. Which is why he was trudging down the sidewalk, tipsy and reeking of beer that was still damp on his clothes. By the time he made it to his house, his memories and thoughts were weighing down on him like a thousand cinder blocks tied to his feet. The ocean of life was hard to tread and he wanted more than anything to just slip under the waves and let the bricks at his feet drag him to the bottom.

He couldn’t do that, however, because he had a crumpled letter in his hand that needed signed. He walked in the house, suddenly remembering that Tony was off work today. Peter wasn’t really in the mood to get yelled at. Or to yell, for that matter. While his sullen walk home had sobered his mind, his body was seemingly slow to follow. He tripped over three things just trying to walk across the living room.

“Peter? Is that you?” Tony called through the house. From where the boy was standing, his stepfather sounded like he was in the kitchen. There was a pause, as if Tony was thinking for a moment. “It’s not even one in the afternoon, why are you home?”

Peter finally made his way in the kitchen, grabbing the counter to steady himself. He offered no reply, merely handing away the paper in his hand. He waited and watched anxiously as Tony’s eyes skimmed across the letter, eyebrows raising in surprise a few different times.

“What the hell is this, Peter?”

“I mean, I thought you just read it,” he mumbled, unable to refrain making the comment. He didn’t know how to tell Tony that he was only doing bad things to get his attention, so he settled on replying like a smart ass. His stepfather’s disappointed look quickly transformed into one of anger.

“You can’t keep doing this. I mean, expulsion?” Tony asked incredulously, shaking the letter for reference. The paper specifically stated that if Peter got in trouble one more time, the consequence would be expulsion. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Peter! Do you even care that you’re close to getting expelled?”

Peter had already assumed his usual position for the argument. He was staring at the space just above Tony’s right shoulder, looking directly past him. He was tired of the same outcome every fight, tired of the yelling. He was really hoping Tony would have been at work so he could have forged his signature and spent the night sleeping off the little alcohol he had consumed.

“I’ve had enough of you, Peter,” Tony said sternly. He was far too quiet. It felt like a punch in the stomach to Peter. The sudden realization that his worst fears were true. There really was no one left in this world that loved him. He thought he felt tears stinging at his eyes, but Tony’s loud voice startled him before they could fall. “It’s been two years of this shit. I know things happened that neither of us wanted, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a little prick all the time. I’ve let it go before, but this has got to stop.”

He slammed the paper down on the counter and before Peter had a chance to say anything, Tony was grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him to the stairs. Peter followed dumbly, trying his hardest not trip as he was pulled upwards. Apparently the effects of the alcohol still hadn’t left his body.

“What-what are you-” Peter interrupted himself as he tripped over the top and final step. This was new. They usually just yelled. He was definitely surprised at the change in events. Tony didn’t give him the time to balance himself, just kept pulling him.

“Getting drunk in the middle of the day? Really, Peter?” Tony asked in a disbelieving tone. Peter knew better than to dig himself any deeper, but he couldn’t stop himself from talking.

“You’re one to talk,”

“I’m an adult, and at least I can manage a drink without spilling it all over myself.” They made it to Tony’s room. Peter’s arm was let go - or thrown down, rather - once he was standing in the middle of the floor. He didn’t really know what to do with himself. He was in uncharted territory, after all. Tony sat down on the edge of his bed, legs spread casually, both hands resting on his thighs.

“Come here,” he said and patted his leg. Peter blinked at him, confusion evident in his features.

“What?”

“Pants down. Hoodie off. Come here.” Tony stated each demand slowly with a rough voice. Peter, very out of his element, complied because he didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t do as told. He pulled his hoodie off first, thankful for the plain black T-shirt underneath. Luckily, the beer hadn’t soaked through his hoodie.

Next came his pants. He unbuckled his jeans nervously until they were at about mid thigh. He stood beside Tony, embarrassment causing his cheeks to heat up. Obviously he wasn’t getting the idea, though, because his stepfather suddenly grabbed his bicep and hauled him over his lap. Peter let out a small  _oof_ at the air escaping his lungs.

As Tony was situating the boy in his lap, Peter’s embarrassment grew. Anger also welled up in his chest. He felt indignant. Why should he allow himself to feel embarrassed when Tony obviously didn’t care about him? The older man had even said that he’d had enough of Peter. Rather than feeling guilty, the boy decided to retaliate. Due to his weak position, however, he resorted to using his words.

“I bet you’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? I didn’t know you liked it rough,” Peter teased, even wiggling his ass for effect. Anything to irritate his stepfather and regain some of the control.

“Shut up,” Tony demanded, teeth grit. Peter was tempted to make a comment about his lame reply, but suddenly a firm hand was brought down against his ass. The boy felt heat spreading under his skin, from the stinging or the embarrassment, he couldn’t be sure. Tony’s hand came down again, and by the third or fourth time, Peter was used to it. The spanking didn’t hurt all too bad. It was a slightly uncomfortable feeling, but he wasn’t in agony.

“Mmm, harder,” Peter pretended to moan, pushing his ass back against the man’s hand. He may have been in a very degrading position, but he was still angry and didn’t feel like giving in. His teasing only filled his stepfather with more rage, and while the man didn’t outright say that, his strikes were getting harder.

“Yes, just like that, Daddy,” Peter sounded obscene. If the situation were caught on tape, it could easily pass for a homemade porn. Peter assumed the role of a slutty cam girl, making all kinds of whorish remarks and sounds. He could tell that Tony didn’t like it, either. All of a sudden, he was being shoved to the ground.

Peter scrambled to catch himself, luckily only landing on his side. From his position on the floor, the younger could see his guardian rifling through the closet. He returned with a paddle in his hand. A fucking wooden paddle. The boy audibly gulped, but tried to remain confident. “Gonna hurt me good, sir?”

Tony didn’t answer, merely resumed his previous stance, sitting at the edge of the bed. He didn’t ask Peter to stand, he just bent down, hooked his right arm under one of the boy’s thighs and the other on his arm, and yanked him up from the floor. Peter, to his ever growing surprise, dropped his jaw in shock. Sure, he was a pretty lithe boy, but Tony had lifted him as though he were light as a feather.

Placed back on Tony’s lap, Peter then felt his boxers being pulled down. He would’ve been humiliated to have his bare ass exposed, but he didn’t have the time. The wooden paddle was brought down with such force that the kid loudly gasped. He didn’t have a smart comment, for all he could think about was the searing pain he felt.

He felt the paddle strike again. And again. And again. The only sound emitted from him was a series of groans and whimpers. In all his seventeen years, Peter didn’t think he had ever felt such pain. Tony seemed to be relentless, distributing several painful whacks in a row. The boy was sure he would have bruises later.

Each thwack of the paddle sent his body jerking in response. Tears had long since welled up behind his eyes. The physical pain mixed with the emotional distress of knowing his stepfather hated him whirl-pooled inside him, threatening to break loose. It was as if the paddle itself was beckoning his tears to spill over. Suddenly feeling like he might implode altogether, Peter slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the sob that escaped his lips.

He was aware that Tony had heard it, but rather than letting up, the sound seemed to only fuel him further. He landed a hit so hard that the kid could do nothing else but let his jaw go slack, thumb falling past his mouth in the process. Completely uncaring of his dignity at this point, he allowed himself the childish comfort of sucking at the digit. Eyes closed, Peter tried not to focus on the fact that his skin felt like it might split open.

The growing hiatus of hits as Tony stared down at his bum had the kid fidgeting nervously. Upon seeing the absolutely wrecked state of his stepson’s flesh, he asked, “Do you think you can behave now?”

Before he could rethink his word choice, Peter hiccuped out, “Yes, Daddy.” That time, unlike the rest, wasn’t said in a teasing manner. Peter was feeling strange. His mind felt so fuzzy, it was almost dizzying. His whole body was heavy and he craved to be held so badly he could hardly stand it. He blamed it on the roller coaster of events that were taking place, but he still felt off.

All of a sudden, the paddle was brought down impossibly harder. A scream ripped its way from the boy’s chest, escaping loudly into the air, but it barely compared to the sound of wood smacking his skin. He thought the paddle had surely landed wrong because half of the width had hit above his bum where he didn’t have any extra meat to soften blow. He was sure his skin was broken on impact, but it wouldn’t stop stinging long enough for him to tell. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Peter.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Daddy." His words were nearly unintelligible as he scrambled desperately to remove himself from the man’s lap, shoving himself to the ground with a great deal of force, though he felt nothing. The cries wouldn’t stop and he curled in on himself as a result, trying to make his body as small as he felt.

Tony watched in horror as the kid sobbed, body heaving helplessly to provide its lungs with oxygen. The noises that filled the room were gruesome and would surely inflict any passerby with a sickness in his or her own stomach. Once able to breathe, the broken boy began a mantra of “I just want you to love me.”

He said it over and over until finally Tony could understand him. The man joined him on the floor and pulled the limp body into his lap, this time in a sitting position, making sure to be wary of his blood-red bum. His mantra stopped after a couple of minutes due only to a thumb slipping past his teeth.

Tony, still rubbing a hand over the kid’s back, said, “Of course I love you, Pete.” The words seem to calm Peter’s cries after several minutes, coaxing him until only whimpers and hiccups could be heard.

“I think we need to talk,” Tony stated when he was sure that the younger had regained some of his composure. “The way we’ve been handling this obviously isn’t beneficial to either one of us. Tell me what you’re thinking so we can fix this,”

“I thought you hated me,” Peter started, voice shaky and unstable - like a baby deer taking its first steps. “I know I’m a burden that you didn’t want, but I see the way you treat Nina, and I want that so bad. I know I do bad things at school, but I just wanted you to ask me what was wrong. But you never did and I thought it was because you hated me. And I don’t even like smoking and drinking. I just wanted you to love me.”

It was silent for a moment, save for the occasional sniffle. Peter had removed his thumb but was instead sucking the collar of Tony’s shirt between his lips.

“I am so sorry you felt like that, Peter. I’m sorry  _I_ made you feel like that. I didn’t know what to do, and I thought that after your mother died, you somehow blamed me,” Tony felt his throat tighten at the mention of Mary. He swallowed thickly, trying to continue. Peter looked at him with the same nutmeg eyes that had belonged to his mother. It made it all the more harder to carry on. “I didn’t know how to talk to you because I knew you were going through a hard time. Hell, I was in a bad place, too. I didn’t do the job I should’ve done, just like my father. I should have treated you better. I swear I’ll do a better job from here on out.”

They sat quietly after that, just enjoying the other’s company, something they had never really done before. Of course, Peter hadn’t ever imagined that their first time bonding would also include his cherry red ass out in the open, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t want to be a bad boy,” Peter mumbled after feeling a sharp pain course through his backside upon shifting. He would be remembering this night for a while, he was sure. It wasn’t like he would have the luxury of forgetting when it hurt just to move his leg. Tony had really done a number on him.

“You never really were,”

* * *

 

The next month of Peter’s life had been the best he’d had in a long time. They both made an effort every evening to talk about their days and how they were feeling. By the time Peter was finished with his two weeks of detention, he felt pretty close to his stepfather. Through many conversations about their interests and wants, the younger had come to realize that the two of them weren’t so different. As a matter of fact, they were both extremely interested in math and science and they even enjoyed the same movies.

Peter was especially glad that Tony tried so hard to include him when Nina was there as well. Admittedly, he had been worried that things would slip back to normal once Tony’s niece was there. However, that wasn’t the case. Within a week, they were cooking and cleaning together nightly and watching horror films on evenings when there wasn’t much homework. Tony even went the extra step and planned fun weekend activities for the three of them. Once they had caught a movie at an old-time cinema, and other time they had went to the park and then to a farmer’s market. Peter’s favorite had been the pumpkin patch because they all went home and carved jack-o’-lanterns. It was very domestic. He was glad to have a family again.

Occasionally, though, Peter would struggle with being so social all the time. After two years of keeping to himself, it was hard to adjust to always talking and sharing evenings with others. Thankfully, when he explained this to his stepfather, the man completely understood and allowed him to take the night off and stay in his room. He would still come and check on Peter every couple of hours, though, and he would usually have snacks with him. The boy was grateful because otherwise, he knew he wouldn’t have eaten.

Those nights were especially great because Tony would offer to help Peter with his homework. For the most part, Peter didn’t require help. He was extremely intelligent in his courses when he applied himself, but, nevertheless, he always accepted. His stepfather would sit next to him on Peter’s twin bed and devote hours of his evening to helping Peter with formulas and equations. The boy finally liked being home.

Home life wasn’t the only thing going well for the kid. Once Peter had called off his “friendship” with Flash and his gang of knuckleheads, he was able to participate in his classes and enjoy his day. Of course, they were pretty pissed at him for a while, but after a couple of weeks, they seemed to have forgotten about it. Peter didn’t care. They were never really friends, anyway.

He even went crawling back to Ned, who was his friend before his mother died and he went spiraling downward. He had explained that he was in a really bad place for a long time, but he was finally dealing with his problems in a healthy way. Ned, being the sweetheart he was, accepted the apology and they picked up where they had left off. Peter was pretty content with every aspect of life.

The only downside to the whole situation, however, was now that Tony and Peter were spending a lot more time together, the boy had started to develop some rather inappropriate feelings. At first, he pinned it on the fact that for the first seventeen years of his life he had never had a father figure, and now that he was receiving that fatherly affection, he craved it nearly all the time.

Those feelings grew stronger and soon, Peter figured it had to be something more than a parental desire entirely. He began getting nervous around the older man, a racing heart mixed with sweaty palms whenever his stepfather accidentally bumped his knee on the couch. The real turning point in Peter’s thought process was when he started thinking of Tony as he touched himself at night.

Peter struggled to find it wrong and disgusting, but he couldn’t force himself to feel negatively about it. It wasn’t like Tony was his biological father, and even though he had parental custody over the boy, they had just stopped being strangers a month prior. While it was a lot to deal with mentally, he tried to ignore it for the most part, allowing his thoughts only to be free when his door was closed and his lights were off and he was whimpering against his pillow.

A month of being happy had apparently caught up to him because despite the dreary late October weather, Peter was on cloud nine all day. It was Thursday and he was terribly excited for the weekend. So excited, in fact, that he could barely contain himself. He went through every class that day practically bouncing in his seat and talking happily to anyone that would listen. Part of his hyper mood probably had to do with the two sugary coffee drinks he had before school, but he couldn’t be too sure. He felt like he had a hot air balloon in his chest, he was so elated. His teachers, although glad to see him out of his two-year slump, did not share his excitement. They kept shushing him and telling him to clam down. Their words did nothing to quiet his babbling.

Peter’s animated behavior didn’t stay at school. He carried it home with him. Much to his dismay, Nina was at home with her parents, leaving him alone until his stepfather returned from work.

About an hour later, the front door opened and in walked Tony. Peter jumped up excitedly and followed the man through the house, talking a million words a minute about anything and everything. He talked about what he learned in each class and something funny that Ned had said at lunch and the cute dog he had seen on his way home. Tony chuckled, unable to get a word in edgewise. He walked to his study and set his briefcase down, Peter trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

“Peter, hey, breathe,” Tony interrupted, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Peter stopped talking, sucking in a breath. He leaned into the man’s touch. “I have some work to do, but we can hang out in little while, yeah? Why don’t you do your homework?”

“I don’t have any homework. Can I stay in here with you?” Peter asked sweetly, sitting down on the black sofa before his stepfather could reply.

Tony sighed, “Just keep quiet so I can work.”

The next hour or so was anything but quiet. After five minutes of not talking, Peter became bored. Sure, he could’ve went to the living room and watched TV, but he didn’t want to leave Tony. It occurred to him that he could’ve gotten his phone to keep himself busy, but he felt like talking to the man. So he did. He talked on and off for minutes on end, occasionally receiving a warning of  _Peter, what did I say?_ Of course, that didn’t stop him. Even when he hushed, it would only last for a few moments before he was talking again.

When he couldn’t think of anything else that had happened over the course of his day and Tony refused to answer his questions about the older man’s day, he began asking for stuff. “You know, there’s this new video game that I really want, Tony. Ned and I have been talking about it for weeks. Can I please have it? Pretty please?”

“Not now, bud. We’ll talk about it later,”

“Okay, but I really want it. It’s so cool and the graphics are supposed to be amazing and I was hoping we could get it so that way I could go to Ned’s this weekend and play it.  _Can I_ go to Ned’s this weekend and play it? Just for a night. Maybe Saturday?”

“Peter, shut up,” Tony snapped. The kid had been talking for over an hour straight and the man felt like he was going insane. He had read the same lines on his paperwork a hundred times. He understood the boy was excited, and according to an email sent by Peter’s teacher, he had been all day.

The kid was silent for a moment, hurt by the older man’s outlash. Peter could tell he was being annoying, but he really couldn’t help it. Suddenly feeling like his good day was turning bad, he decided to cop an attitude. “Fine, if you don’t want me to talk to you, I won’t. We should just go back to never talking to each other. Is that what you want?”

Sure, it was a low blow, and sure, Peter knew he was in the wrong. He had been asked to be quiet so the man could work, and then got upset when Tony told him to stop talking. He just needed to blow off steam at being rejected like that. He stood up and stalked toward the door, ready to slam it shut behind him when a hand caught his bicep. In a flash, he was back at the sofa, stretched across Tony’s lap as the elder worked to pull his skinny jeans over his ass.

The first few hits stung, but were nothing compared to a month ago. While Peter wasn’t a fan of the paddle, he found himself enjoying the forceful smacks of his stepfather’s hand. It was enough to remind him that he wasn’t in charge (and also to remind him that he really liked the feeling of Tony’s strong hands on him).

“Did you forget what an attitude gets you, Peter?” Tony asked sternly as he brought his hand down on the mound of flesh, grabbing a handful of Peter’s ass after slapping it.

The boy let out a soft moan and although the question was rhetorical, he answered, “Yes, Mr. Stark.” The answer seemed to earn him an even harder hit, but he blamed it on the cheeky name he had used.

“You haven’t listened all day, Peter. You didn’t listen to me and you didn’t listen to your teachers. Am I going to have to spank you every time someone tells you something? Or do you think you can listen next time?” Tony asked, continuing to land smacks as talked. Like last time, a thumb had slipped in his mouth, giving him something to suck and bite at. The way the man was patronizing him caused him to feel strangely dizzy again.

After a few more strikes, Tony’s hand came to rest over-top the kid’s underwear, rubbing gingerly at the - no doubt - tender skin.

“Alright, kid, get up. You’re going to bed without dinner tonight,” said Tony and Peter shuffled to his feet. He would’ve been upset if he weren’t standing there, jeans caught on his thighs, with a hard on in his briefs. He focused more on discreetly covering himself with his hands than on his stepfather’s words.

“What are- oh…” Tony trailed off as he pulled the boy’s hands away from his crotch, spotting the obvious erection in his pants. Peter watched in embarrassment, feeling as though he weren’t in his own body. He saw Tony shift awkwardly in his seat and upon further inspection, Peter spotted a matching boner in his jeans.

Tony let out a choked whisper of, “Peter,” and that was enough for the younger. He was pulling his pants the rest of the way off his legs, already whimpering and moaning little pleas of  _Daddy, please, I need it._ Once stripped to his underwear, he was straddling the older man and grinding his hard dick against the man’s firm stomach, reveling in the friction.

“Peter, wait, are you sure this okay?” Tony asked, placing both hands on the kid’s hips to still his movements. The boy jerked erratically in his grip, trying desperately to regain the pressure on his crotch.

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’ve wanted it for a while, please,” Peter begged, grinding his body down on the older man, as if to convince him further. It seemed to persuade him enough because Tony was suddenly pulling his hips closer and connecting their mouths. Peter wasn’t the best kisser, but his sloppy excitement only turned his stepfather on more. And he could tell because he felt two rough hands touching him everywhere - his chest, his back, his ass. The man’s fingertips felt like fire on his skin, igniting his senses everywhere they touched.

When precum started leaking from Peter’s tip, leaving a wet patch on his underwear, Tony pulled away and commanded, “Stand up." Excitedly, the kid complied. He thought they were going to move to Tony’s room or maybe even fuck over the desk, but in his naivety, he missed the mischievous glint in the man’s eyes.

“Take your shirt off,” Tony instructed, smiling as the younger did as he was told. Standing in only his underwear, he was aware that his stepfather was fully clothed. When the man scooted forward in his seat, Peter was sure he was going to stand up and undress himself, but he stopped at the edge of the sofa and reached to tug the boy’s briefs down mid thigh.

“Alright, sport, this is how this is gonna work. I’m gonna touch you-” Tony was cut off by moan. He licked his lips at the delicious noise. “I’m gonna touch you, but if you move, I’m gonna stop. Do you think you can stand there like a good boy and let Daddy touch you?”

“God, yes,” Peter whispered, but boy was he wrong. Tony’s hand started slow, barely moving up and down on the kid’s length. He spit in his hand and used Peter’s precum to make it slicker, but he didn’t pick up his pace. A few minutes into this and the boy could hardly stand it. He pushed his hips forward, trying to convince Tony’s hand to move quicker.

“Uh, uh, uh,” the elder tutted, dropping his hand for a few moments. He watched Peter’s hips buck up into the air. Once stilled, Tony’s hand found his way back onto the kid’s cock. He moved his fast faster this time, allowing himself to build up a rhythm. Peter was able to control himself longer with the new speed, only his hands moving against his thighs, opening and closing as if to find purchase somewhere.

Since Peter was seemingly doing okay, Tony moved his hand to pay special attention to the to the boy’s head. Using his thumb and his forefinger, the the man twisted his digits around the frenulum. This action alone seemed to absolutely destroy any chance that Peter had at remaining still. The pleasure was so intense that it sent shock waves up his spine and throughout the rest of his extremities. Within two minutes of this, the kid had managed to move three times, starting the cycle all over again.

“Oh, fuck,” Peter cried out, legs shifting in vain to keep from canting his hips forward. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair damp and curly on his forehead, his skin flushed a deep pink. When his moans grew louder and his toes began to curl, The firm hand around his dick was removed. He let out an exasperated sigh, looking frantically at Tony for an answer.

“I, I didn’t move,” Peter said desperately, feeling his dick twitch helplessly against his stomach. He wanted badly to just reach down and finish himself off, but the look on his stepfather’s face was telling him otherwise.

“I know,” came Tony’s cool reply. He grabbed the waistband of Peter’s underwear and pulled them up, tucking the kid’s spit-slick, hard cock back in his briefs.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, to which he received no reply. At least not in words, anyway. The man stood up, turned the kid around, and slapped his ass once more before taking him upstairs to his room.

“Now, you’re gonna stay in here, bud. You’re not gonna get dinner - oh, and don’t even think about getting yourself off,” Tony explained, voice stern and authoritative.  _Yeah, right,_ Peter thought to himself, knowing full well that he was gonna cum as soon as his stepfather left the room. “The door stays open, and don’t think you can get away with it because I’ll know. You’re not quiet, Peter. I’ve heard you plenty of times before.”

With that, the man disappeared down the hall, leaving Peter a horny, embarrassed mess. Deciding it best not to disobey, Peter focused on calming his hormones. He spent the rest of the night scrolling through his phone and playing video games before going to bed early. It didn’t help that he woke up twice throughout the night due to a wet dream about his stepfather. He refrained nonetheless and his efforts paid off by the time the sun was in the sky the next morning.

He was greeted by Tony who came bearing the fruits of Peter’s labor - a delicious homemade breakfast and a blowjob.


End file.
